


Past

by Viridian5



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-11-23
Updated: 1998-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ignorance is bliss only as long as you remain ignorant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Ascension," "One Breath," "Terma," "The Red and the Black," and "Drive,"
> 
> This one takes place years down the road from "[Heat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4059)," but it's not necessary to read that one to get this one.
> 
> Beta by the lovely and talented Te and Orithain.
> 
> At the time I wrote this, you could get the pumpkin ravioli and dining ambiance (but not Mulder and Krycek, more's the pity) described here at Cafe Mona Lisa in the Village.

_"And now there's nothing left to say;_  
_Well, nothing you'd believe."_  
    -- "Torn Apart" by Stabbing Westward  
\-----------------------------------------------------------

"What the hell do you want, Krycek?"

"Take a seat," Alex said. Mulder looked like hell, even in the kindness of candlelight, drawn, haunted-eyed, with his hair chopped again. The cold night seemed to have followed him in, clinging to him. "I can tell you after dinner. Sit."

Mulder remained standing, looming over the table and looking like a bedraggled crow in his wet, black trench coat. "I didn't come here for dinner. Tell me what you have for me." He should have sounded angry, and the fact that his voice spoke more of fatigue and apathy than anything else worried Alex.

Alex sat back in the overstuffed chair. "Not without dinner first. The menu here is great."

"I've been dealing with enough shit, literal and figurative, on the job lately. I don't have to take it from you too."

"Sit." Alex used that soft, gentle whisper of a tone that had worked when they'd still been lovers. //God, he even has his hair butchered in almost the same way it had been back then. Mourning hair...// Desire and sadness hit him at the same time. //Their plans seem to be working. Damn it.//

Mulder sat. The waiter seemed to take that as a signal, walking over and asking, "Can I get you anything yet?"

"We're ready to order," Alex said and stopped Mulder's protest with a firm hand on the older man's wrist. "Two coffees, the pumpkin ravioli with pesto sauce, and a lemon crepe. Thank you."

As the waiter walked away, Mulder said, "If you say, 'trust me,' I swear I'll punch you."

"In a public place? Do you really want the dinner crowd here privy to our private business?"

"You chose the location."

Mulder tried to look away from Alex, but he saw the other man whether he looked at or away from the double (triple?) agent, whether his eyes were open or closed. Unfair of the bastard to demand a meeting in the Village, to trade on ancient history like this. The fake left arm sitting motionless and dead on the table brought Mulder's mind back to less pleasant times. The vague horror he felt at Krycek's maiming tilted his thinking back in directions he wanted to avoid.

"So I did." Alex saw the pain but couldn't help poking at the wound a bit. "Do you still have the sunglasses I bought you?" Mulder tried to stand in a rush, but Alex tightened his grip on the cold wrist under his fingers. "Sorry, that was stupid of me to ask."

Candleflames jittered in Mulder's eyes. He looked so close to snapping... then he calmed himself and sat back. "Something we agree on. This better be worth it, Krycek."

The surname felt like a slap, exactly as Mulder meant it. Alex swallowed. "The way you look now, anyone seeing you would feel the urge to take you home and give you a bowl of soup. Even me."

"My new assistant director wouldn't, I'm sure."

"You'll love the ravioli."

"Like you'd have a clue what I'd like." So quiet. So dead. Then the coffee arrived, and Mulder started to drink it black. Another shot of self-punishment.

Alex stirred sugar into his own. "You should treat yourself better. Otherwise, you're helping them win."

Mulder's head jerked up. //How dare you...// "They seem to be looking out for _your_ health." Krycek looked damned good, better than the last two times. Apparently, he wasn't on the run anymore.

Krycek tucked damp, sable hair behind one slightly pointed ear. Mulder remembered the elf jokes he used to make and swiftly turned his mind away from the memory. He chose to believe the atmosphere--candlelight and overstuffed chairs--could be blamed for the rush of sentimentality. Weakness. Combine that with his tiredness, the grinding and incessant torture of his job lately, and recently having had Mr. Crump's head explode right behind him despite all his efforts to save the man, and Mulder might as well bare his throat to Krycek.

Before Krycek could answer, the waiter came back with the food. He set what could easily be identified as a crepe, blanketed in powdered sugar and accompanied by a small dipper of lemon juice, in front of Krycek. Mulder had no idea what the hell was on his own plate. His first panicked thought involved some sort of alien eggs or membranes in green ooze. The pale white, almost transparent ravioli had dark centers and sat in a small pond of dark basil bits floating in pale, creamy green.

"I'm supposed to eat this?" Mulder asked.

Krycek grinned in anticipation. "I dare you."

"That's mature." Mulder pondered the question and decided he'd lose whether he defied the man or gave in. He might as well eat. He cut one in half and saw what looked like pumpkin pie filling inside. With Krycek watching, Mulder kept his face carefully blank and popped one half into his mouth. The basil tang of the pesto sauce shouldn't have worked with the sweetness of pumpkin filling but did. It was delicious. //He does still know me. Damn him.//

Alex saw a brief uplift to Mulder's lips but knew the older man would die before admitting anything. He decided to be merciful and say nothing of it. Mulder would be thinking about it anyway.

They spent the rest of the meal in an almost comfortable silence, appreciating their food. They only spoke when the waiter came by to ask if they wanted more coffee. Mulder put cream and sugar in his refilled cup; he also finished everything on his plate.

Alex was surprised at the happiness watching Mulder's enjoyment of the meal gave him. //I'm just a big softy. Did I really miss him this much? Shoot me now.// He wiped the smile from his face.

Mulder noticed Krycek smiling and was jolted by the man's beauty, especially when Alex's thick lashes swept down, casting feathery shadows on his skin from the candlelight. Usually, Mulder could ignore it or let himself forget. //I have to get the hell out of here.//

"We're finished with dinner. What did you want to tell me, Krycek?"

"Not here. Outside."

Mulder sighed, but made no complaint as Krycek paid the bill and led them out into the orange and black night. Street, sign, and car lights gleamed off wet asphalt and stone. Beads of mist glittered in Krycek's hair like tiny jewels. The warmth and contentment of the meal prevented Mulder from feeling the cold as he should have. It was irrational to be angry at something for daring to make him feel happy in Krycek's presence, but there it was.

"Out with it, Krycek."

"The Consortium is taking a different approach to you now. They're going to try to break you, throw so many obstacles in front of you that you'll either snap or quit. It's up to you whether you let them."

"That's it? Hell, I figured that out on my own."

"There's also this." Alex pulled Mulder close and kissed him.

Mulder melted into it //Just like that night in my apartment, when he used my memories of him to paralyze me with a kiss...// and parted his lips for Alex's tongue. He tasted lemon and sugar, tangy sour and sweet //I was the one with lemon that first time four years ago, lemon ices...//, with the hint of coffee. He let it take him back to another night far away, a more innocent time. A time when he'd thought they couldn't do anything more or worse to him... The ghost breath of that hot summer ran down his skin wherever Alex touched him. He so desperately needed someone to comfort him. //If Alex wants to, why shouldn't I let him?

//Because Alex hasn't been Alex for a long time. Because ignorance is only bliss as long as you remain ignorant. Because...// Mulder ripped himself away. He knew he should have tossed the moment off with a joke, maybe something about Krycek buying him dinner and then expecting him to put out, but it all hurt so badly that the pain came roaring out.

"I have to know, Krycek. All that time we were together... Did you know what your bosses intended to do to Scully all that time? Did the thought of fucking me over literally appeal to you? Did you enjoy hearing me beg for your touch as you thought of the betrayal to come?"

"It wasn't like that, Mulder!"

"Then how was it? Do you know what it did to me? It tore me apart. I can't think of our time together without thinking of Scully's abduction, resulting sterility, and near death. I wanted to die. I couldn't kill myself, not with Scully out there somewhere needing rescue, but I could become so reckless and self-destructive that I almost let the world do it for me.

"That night you took me home on Skinner's direction... I can't remember that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock without seeing Scully locked in Duane Barry's trunk on her way to your bosses." Mulder all but choked on his own breath. "I can't forgive you. I can't forgive myself."

Alex hadn't thought Mulder could find a way to make him feel worse. "Mulder, please--there's so much you don't know..." Alex started to trail off, obviously unable //unwilling// to finish the thought, and Mulder turned to leave. "Wait... it's not your fault!"

Mulder's laugh lacked humor. "And it isn't yours either?" Mulder walked away, pausing only briefly to say, softly, "Thanks for the dinner, Krycek."

Alex remained motionless as he watched the dark, slump-shouldered figure shrink and fade into the distance. When he couldn't see Mulder anymore, he punched the brick wall next to him and tried to find comfort in physical pain. But it provided no satisfaction, just more pain.

 

### End


End file.
